Quaint Little Categories
by Gmariam
Summary: "You people and your quaint little categories." Jack and Ianto talk about categories and labels. Dialogue only-no narrative.


Author's Note:  
This story is written as dialogue only, a back and forth conversation between Jack and Ianto, starting with Ianto. There is no narrative and never was. For some, it might be hard to follow. In which case, I have many other Torchwood stories you might enjoy! But if you are curious about their conversation, please read on. Try it out loud, try it with accents, maybe picture them naked in bed? I do hope you enjoy it!

* * *

_"You people and your quaint little categories."_

* * *

"Jack?"

"Ianto?"

"What do you have against categories and labels?"

"Nothing, really."

"Except when they apply to you."

"Yes, except when they apply to me. You really can't categorize me."

"I wouldn't want to try. But why do you reject them so vehemently?"

"It's not that I reject them so much as I don't accept them."

"Why not?"

"For a lot of reasons. What do _you_ think of categories and labels? Accept or reject?"

"Depends on the context, I suppose. Sometimes they're important—even necessary."

"How?"

"Well, I work with alien archives. Without any categories or labels, it would be chaos. There would be no way to identify anything, understand anything, or find anything. Labels can define and classify and bring order to the unknown."

"Good example. And I accept those kinds of categories. Others can be too restrictive—like when they apply to people."

"All right, your turn then. Give me an example."

"Say you work in television. You're labeled a big time television star. But what if you want to do a film? What if you want to be a singer too? And even better—what if you play an upstanding character on a clean-cut hit show, but you want to go on tour with Hedwig and the Angry Inch as a transgender rock star grinding on stage in fishnets? You've already been labeled a successful television star, so why take the chance on something so risqué?"

"Jack."

"Yes?"

"That's a ridiculous example."

"That doesn't make it any less true."

"If you let it be true. Plenty of television stars have broken into film or moved to theater and done quite well. If you want to sing and dance in fishnets and six inch heels after playing the romantic hero on Holby City, there's really nothing stopping you."

"Sure there are—producers, directors, lawyers."

"If you let them. Try again."

"Fine. How about this? You're a writer instead. You've written six successful science fiction novels and want to try writing a Scottish period romance. But you've been labeled a science fiction writer. Even if your publisher agrees to take a chance on another genre with you, maybe _you're_ too scared to try, no matter how much that story is clammering to get out of your head and onto the page. The label has defined your success, but it's also limited you to it, because you can't break away from the mindset it's created."

"That one makes more sense, but I think a dedicated writer could find the strength to break out of whatever genre they've found themselves boxed in to and write the story they want to write. Look at me. I was a researcher and an archivist and now I'm a field agent. I never used a gun until I came here. If I let my title—a label—define my abilities, I'd still be doing nothing but making coffee and ordering pizza."

"Most people probably would still be making coffee and ordering pizza instead of chasing aliens. That just proves you're stronger than most people."

"Not really."

"Yes, you are. You can do anything you set your mind to if you don't believe in being defined by a label. What you did for Lisa is another example."

"Don't be ridiculous. What does that have to do with labels?"

"She was converted, Ianto. She was a Cyberman. You refused to believe in that label, that definition of her. You believed she was human, you believed she could be healed, and you did everything you could to make that happen."

"It's not the same at all."

"In some ways, no. In other ways, it's exactly what I'm talking about: labels and categories often have the unintended consequence of limiting a person's potential. And sometimes it's not the big things, but the little things that we don't even realize."

"Time for another example then."

"Okay, think about those ridiculous online quizzes Gwen is always sending us. They arbitrarily define and label people until some people start to believe it—my favorite color is actually chartreuse! I'm really a cat person! I should buy a Ford Fiesta! I have to move to Splott!"

"If you actually believe in online quizzes that can read your past lives, then you probably deserve to be driving a chartruese Ford Fiesta through Splott with a hissing cat on your lap."

"Not the point. Sometimes when you're labeled, in any way, you start to live that label, without even realizing it. Without them, you're free to live however you want."

"I still believe labels can help identify and define things, even people."

"Your turn for an example now."

"All right. Personality tests—and not the online type. You answer a series of questions, and at the end you're given a personality type. Now, I can see how it would be limiting to someone like you, since our little planet is barely big enough for your personality, let alone your ego and libido, but for a lot of other more down to earth folks, they often discover the deeper patterns behind their thoughts and actions and can better understand them rather than struggle with them."

"Like what?"

"Well, every time I've taken one of those tests, I'm labeled an introvert. I'm sure you're shocked."

"Not really. And I'm an extrovert."

"Also shocking."

"I know. Go on."

"Introverts share certain characteristics, many of which are considered negative. I used to struggle with it, but now I understand that one reason I am the way I am is because I am an introvert. I can accept myself as I am without feeling guilty or less than someone more extroverted."

"I totally agree. That makes perfect sense."

"Thank you."

"But do you ever limit yourself because you've accepted the label of an introvert? Not do something, not think something, not say something because you've been conditioned to think and act a certain way because of that description?"

"You mean, do I ever use being introverted as an excuse to not be extroverted?"

"Exactly."

"Do you ever use being extroverted as an excuse to not be introverted?"

"No."

"Exactly."

"Touché."

"Labels only condition and control you if you let them, Jack. Are you afraid of being controlled by labels?"

"Not, I am definitely my own person after being around for so long. But I do worry about others trying to control me with their labels."

"How so?"

"How can others control me through their labels?"

"Yes. If I call you an interstellar Lothario, how does that allow me to control you?"

"You form preconceptions of me that might not be true, for one."

"That never bothers you, what others think."

"No, but sometimes when someone thinks something about you, you find yourself subconsciously trying to live up to it."

"So if I label you a promiscuous wanker when you drink, you'll start shagging the warmest body next time we're at the pub?"

"Of course not."

"Because the label doesn't control you."

"Because you'll be there, and I have you to shag."

"Jack."

"I do."

"That's not the point."

"That wasn't a good example. I can be promiscuous, and I can be a wanker, but it has nothing to do with what any one thinks about me."

"So give me an example of being controlled by a label."

"Well, you all call me Captain."

"You told us to, Jack. You correct anyone who doesn't."

"But when you do, I have to act like the captain. Not Jack, not some guy from the 51st century or another Torchwood agent. The captain. The leader."

"That's because you _are_ our leader. Your examples are terrible tonight, Jack."

"Okay, fine. I didn't want to open this particular box, but we might as well. Sexuality in the 21st century. Label or no?"

"Five years ago I might have said sure, why not? Now I know better."

"What do you know better?"

"That while a label may help some people to understand themselves and identify with a particular set of norms, for others it's a bit more…fluid than the vocabulary allows for."

"That's one way to put it. The vocabulary itself limits you. If you say you're straight, you can only be with the opposite sex. No one thinks twice of your label, and it's all fine and good. If you say you're gay, you can only be with the same sex. You get some funny looks, maybe worse. It's still illegal in some countries. And if you say you're bisexual, you can go either way, but then you're really ostracized, because neither side will truly embrace you, few people understand you, and the label becomes less about your honest choices and more about what others think about you and how they treat you."

"I suppose. I never really thought about it like that. I'm still not sure how what others think can actually control you, though."

"That's because you haven't lived through the changes with these particular labels. When I first came here, I was thrown in prison for sleeping with men. When I admitted to enjoying the company of both men and women, I was beaten. I've had to sneak around more times than you can imagine, facing cruelty and prejudices not even dreamed of where I'm from."

"So the label becomes not only limiting for you—men, women, both even though you'd probably sleep with a slug—"

"Would not!"

"It becomes dangerous in the hands of people who use it to judge, condemn, and harm."

"Here, on earth, in this time—yes. For me, it's more about being confined in my choices, though. I want to be free to choose what I do with my life, my body, my heart. And I'd prefer to do that without feeling threatened and quite possibly risking my life."

"So what about labeling relationships?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is that why you don't label your relationships?"

"Who says I don't?"

"You don't seem like the type. Not anymore, at least."

"I've been married, you know. I've had girlfriends, boyfriends."

"Alienfriends?"

"That too, yes. Although technically—"

"Don't even go there, Jack. I really don't want to know."

"It's fascinating."

"The labels, or the sex?"

"Both."

"No thank you. So you do label your relationships."

"Sure. When I can."

"And if you can't?"

"Then I don't."

"Why? Because it's restrictive? Or dangerous?"

"At times it really was dangerous to introduce another man as a boyfriend or partner."

"And other times it was just inconvenient?"

"Perhaps. More often there wasn't a label that applied to the relationship. Ianto, where is this going?"

"Nowhere, Jack. I get it, I really do."

"Get what?"

"Labeling a relationship stamps it with restrictions. Obligations. You're not the obligating type."

"Are you talking about us?"

"No, I'm not. I'm just—never mind."

"Ianto, you can't stop now. What do you mean?"

"I can see how labeling a relationship might be restricting, I really can. You call it monogamous and all of a sudden you can't go on the pull."

"I don't do that anymore, haven't for a long time. You know that."

"I do. But that's not the only label. If you call each another boyfriend or girlfriend, or call yourselves a couple, then that brings all the obligations that come with being partners, being a couple. You don't strike me as a man who carries those obligations willingly."

"I have, at times."

"But it's hard, when you've lost so much."

"It is."

"I understand. The label becomes dangerous in a different way."

"What do you mean?"

"Accepting the label means accepting the possibility—no, the _probability_ of getting hurt. And not because being with a man got you beaten or thrown in jail a hundred years ago. Because loss is the only constant in the universe."

"That's a very bleak way of looking at it, Ianto."

"But that's how you see it, isn't it? You can't be hurt by a label you haven't accepted. You can't lose what you don't really have."

"Are you saying I don't really have you?"

"I'm not talking about us, Jack. There is no us because neither one of us accepts the labels surrounding the idea of us."

"I don't like being put in a category."

"So you've said. Neither do I, not anymore. And there really is no category for us anyway."

"We could be our own then, if you like."

"Categories come with definitions, Jack. We have no definition."

"Sure we do. We…well, we're…"

"See? You can't pinpoint the vocabulary for it, therefore no definition and no category. No label, therefore everyone is happy."

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Are you happy?"

"With you, yes."

"With no label, no category?"

"I'm…working on that. I'm an archivist, Jack. I like things neat and tidy. I like organizing things according to what they are and what they aren't, understanding them through that organization."

"We're not very neat and tidy."

"Not usually, no."

"You've never tried to organize us, though. Understand or categorize us."

"No, I haven't."

"Why not?"

"For the same reasons you haven't."

"I'm an immortal time traveler, Ianto. My reasons are probably a bit different than yours."

"Some of them, yes. But I've already said it."

"Fear?"

"Loss, Jack."

"I should think that would be less of a concern for you, actually."

"Why?"

"Because I can't die, remember? You won't lose me. Ever."

"That's not true and you know it, Jack. Anything could happen. You could be called away, you could be _taken_ away, you might even choose to leave one day, to return to the stars—"

"I'm here and I'm staying. If I have to leave, I'll come back. I thought you knew that, Ianto. I'm here for _you_."

"No pressure, then."

"No pressure at all. Just my pleasure."

"Jack."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

"Look, Ianto…I liked being married. I liked having girlfriends and boyfriends and lovers and partners and significant others. And I still do."

"What about the elephant in the room then?"

"Which particular one? It's still a bit crowded in here."

"Very funny. The dashing immortal one."

"I knew you thought I was dashing!"

"Of course I do. So what about that elephant?"

"What about it?"

"After so many years, how does it affect your relationships?"

"Wow, you know how to ask the tough questions, don't you?"

"I'm sorry, you don't have to answer. Really, Jack. It's all right."

"No, I want to. I do. At first I swore them off, hoping I'd find the Doctor sooner rather than later. When I realized it wasn't going to be anytime soon, and even worse, that I couldn't die, then I lost myself in…well, I wouldn't call them relationships really, but I lost myself in others. After a while I realized how unsatisfying that was and started to commit. But after losing everyone I committed to, I couldn't do it anymore, not for a long time. Eventually I started dating again, but it was never serious."

"Jack—"

"Let me finish. I met a woman back in the seventies, and it was intense, but it didn't work out at all. When she found out about me, she left. She didn't die, she didn't pat me on the cheek and wish me a happy eternity, she rejected me. She took our child and disappeared. I never wanted to go through that again, so there haven't been many since then."

"Jack, that was more than thirty years ago."

"I kept busy with Torchwood, especially once I took over. And it's not like I was celibate. I just didn't commit. I couldn't."

"It must have been difficult, being treated like that. Lonely."

"It was. It made it hard to try again, to accept my own feelings yet alone someone else's. But I did."

"You did?"

"With you."

"Jack, don't."

"You know what I am, Ianto. You know _who_ I am. There is still so much you don't know, but you don't push. You let me be_ me_ and you accept it, the good, the bad, and the unknown. I've never really had that before, and it's…it's amazing. Thank you."

"You're welcome, I suppose."

"I mean it."

"I know. But you deserve it, Jack. You really do, even if you think you don't. It's just that you don't talk about things very much, and I understand that."

"Because neither do you."

"I'm not much of a talker. You know that."

"You've done quite a bit tonight. And yet, sometimes I still don't feel like I really know you."

"How so?"

"Well, all this talk about categories and labels. I know you like it for your work and even find it helpful in understanding people. But what about the relationship thing? You brought it up. Is that how you feel, that the label is an obligation weighing you down?"

"Not at all. I think there can be a lot of comfort in those obligations."

"Like what?"

"Well, when you're in a serious relationship, it's because you want to be with that person more than anyone else in the world. You want to see them, talk to them, touch them. You want to go to sleep next to them and wake up in the morning curled around them. You want to help them through their tears and make them laugh. And none of that feels like an obligation because they make you feel like no one else does and you want to do the same for them. When they do the same for you, you know you can count on them to be there as well, through your laughter and tears, your good days and bad days, and that's an amazing feeling that just makes you love them more. It's like having a living anchor—not just someone to go home to every night and share your life with, but someone grounding you, someone who loves you unconditionally, someone you couldn't live without."

"You had that with Lisa, didn't you?"

"I did, yeah. And then she…well…"

"She died."

"Twice, in a way. And more than that, she…"

"She left you."

"She betrayed me."

"Oh, Ianto, she didn't do it on purpose. Nothing that happened to her was her fault. You must know that."

"I do, yes. I really do. But it's still hard, sometimes, to believe that it won't happen again. Not the…the attack, god forbid, but the betrayal. Leaving…dying."

"I'm not going to betray you, Ianto. I'm not going to leave you. And I'm not going to die."

"You can't know that, Jack. You're different."

"So are you."

"Not like that."

"No, you're different in your own special, amazing way. You're my anchor, Ianto. You are the one I want to see and hear and touch when I go to bed and when I wake up. You are the one who sees my tears, who makes me laugh. You are the one I want to take care of me on the bad days and be with me to enjoy the good days."

"Jack, stop it. Before you end up proposing."

"Hey, I'd consider it."

"What?"

"I would. But not right now, because you don't believe me. Or you won't let yourself believe me. But I know one thing about you, Ianto Jones."

"You do, do you?"

"I do. You won't let yourself believe me because you don't want to be hurt, and you don't want to hurt me. Only deep down, you know it's all true, everything I just said. And I know you know because you do all those things for me, and you let me do those things for you. We are that someone for each other."

"Even though we didn't want to be."

"No matter how hard we both tried."

"It was supposed to be casual."

"It was, yes. But it stopped being casual months ago, didn't it?

"I guess it did. What now? If it's not casual, what do we call it?"

"We could just call it 'us', you know."

"I think I'd like to know what that means, Jack. Before I fall any harder and get hurt."

"I won't let you."

"Fall or get hurt? Because I did both last time, and I knew what it was."

"Well, you said that sometimes the obligations that come with a label can be comforting. I agree. I like being with you, waking up with you, chasing aliens with you, having great sex with you. So…I'd say that makes you my partner."

"Partner?"

"Well, boyfriend sounds a bit young for someone my age."

"Partners. Well, we're colleagues."

"Yes."

"We're friends."

"I hope so."

"We're lovers."

"Definitely."

"And we're dating."

"Yes. Exclusively."

"So I suppose partners would be the next step."

"If you'll accept the label."

"And you do?"

"I do. I've thought about it before, believe it or not. I can't say I'm not scared as hell, but talking to you has made it clear. Partners."

"In every sense of the word."

"Please don't go stealing his lines."

"Sorry, it was getting a bit serious."

"I'm usually the one making jokes."

"So make one. Mine get worse the later I stay up talking about such serious subjects."

"Then we should go to sleep. And I do mean sleep."

"Jack?"

"What?"

"You're right about me—about everything."

"I know."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For knowing me."

"Thank you, Ianto, for knowing me and still being here."

"Like you once said, I wouldn't change it for the world, Jack. This is where I'm meant to be."

"You're amazing, Ianto Jones."

"You're not so bad yourself, Jack Harkness."

"You might be getting that proposal sooner than you think if you keep talking like that."

"I might actually think about it when it comes."

"I hope so. Because I don't want to lose you, Ianto. You mean too much to me to not accept another label someday."

"Maybe someday, Jack."

"I'll be waiting."

"I'll be here."

"Promise?"

"I do."

* * *

Another Author's Note:  
The End! I'm sure there is much they left out on the topic, but it was still something I wanted to explore. I hear them talk quite clearly in my head, and given that this was nothing but a conversation on the subject of categories and labels, I didn't feel like dialogue tags and narrative description of their reactions were really necessary. It was about their conversation, and how it applied to them. Sort of inspired by something someone said to me not too long ago, something I'm still working on. This was one way to try to understand whether labels define or confine a person, because I can truly see both points of view. I'd love to know your thoughts on both the fic and the subject. Thank you for reading!


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